


Gang Wars

by Graystorm



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Heist Galore, The reader is just referred to as ‘Kitten’, Why is there no Ashe/Reader tag yet, fem reader - Freeform, fluff-ish, fuuuuuuck - Freeform, gayy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:09:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graystorm/pseuds/Graystorm
Summary: The fierce battle between the Deadlock Gang and the Phantom Bullet has raged since time immemorial. What happens when the battle lines blur? Is the answer...Love?





	1. Chapter 1

 

The Beginning

 

The gorge was silent, wind whistling in the dead summer heat. At first glance, the train wreck seemed empty, with no obvious signs of life. But look closer, and you could see a flash of black denim, or red bandana. Slowly, men and women, about 20 or so, made their way out of the wreckage, quietly surveying the area, all heavily armed. 

 

Then, just by the gas station, a flock of gunners, all in Persian blue, run out to meet the unsuspecting Deadlock Gang. And here, the age-old war was being fought yet again. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

You had just been accepted into the Phantom Bullet, a rag-tag bunch of assassins for hire. You had barely passed the initiation. Your task had been to declare your wish to uphold the law yourself by annihilating half the local police force. By yourself. Without getting spotted. 

 

You were here easily the most talented in your group, completing objectives with ease, ruthlessly killing the unfortunate targets appointed to you. You were young, and carried yourself with the air of an arrogant genius. Yet somewhere inside you, you knew there were harder battles to fight. 

 

Your mother had been a high ranking official in the Phantom Bullet, and ever since childhood you had heard the tales of the demon spawn known as the Deadlock Gang, a merciless gang of criminals of all kind. Theives, murderers, arsonists, demolitions experts, the whole lot of them. 

 

You figured your mother only felt salty was because your father had left her for the handsome young leader at the time, a strapping man with a devilish grin and a hand for incapacitation. However, you were not eager to follow in his footsteps, or else you’d get the chancla. 

 

Stepping out of the cave that served as the Phantom Headquarters, you revelled in your newfound freedom. You were ready to make your mark on the world, and ready to avenge your mother’s dignity. 


	2. The First Confrontation

A raid had been announced. A precious crossbow, crafted by the Founders, has been ‘stolen’. Really you know some drunk bastard passed out while on duty. It really was easy to sneak into the HQ, with there being only one entrance that was rarely guarded at best. And anyway, there was only one group of people brave enough to venture into the dark cave of HQ. 

 

Attack parties were being organised. You yourself were put on an elite team, which surprised you until your mother showed up, chancla in hand, chasing down the Commander-in-chief. 

 

Mothers. 

 

A grizzly old man infront of you stepped forward and turned to address your unit, about 6 heavily armed lethals. 

 

“Listen up, you fuckers. We all know the Commander just wants an opportunity to go get his girlfriend a fancy trophy from the The Deadfuck Gang, so try not to kill each other. I’m not gonna be scraping ye guts of the floor.”

 

He pauses, then turns pointedly to you. 

 

“You screw this up, newbie, and I’ll give you worse than a fucking flip flop. “

 

You blush as everone one turns to watch your mother beat the Commander up a tree. 

 

Mothers. 

 

A flustered looking skinny legend is nudged infront of the crowd. 

 

“M-move out!”

 

And the Phantom Bullet run out as one. 

 

 

* * *

 

Your elite squad break apart from the main branch of soldiers, scaling your way along the canyon side’s edge before coming to rest at the mouth of a passageway. The old man from before holds his hand for halt before facing the squad once again.

 

”Now, we’re goin’ into the Lion’s Den, aight? No one moves without my say-so, no one looks, speaks,  _breathes_ without me knowing bout it.”

 

His eyes meet everyone’s before jumping into the abandoned train wreck.

 

 

 

 


	3. Emergence

The squad moved silently, and you had the chance to survey your surroundings. You don’t doubt why the Deadlock Gang have chosen this particular hideout. 

 

A gargantuan, abandoned warehouse stood solitary and silent, flushed against the pale sand. It was just after noon, and the sun’s harsh rays grazed every surface. The air was still, and not a grain of sand moved.

 

As assassins, you had been trained to move in the shadows, to hide in plain sight, and to kill without remorse. The fact that you were moving out in bright daylight puzzles you, but you were hardly the one to question orders. 

 

The squad slowly made their way to the large bay doors, and your discomfort slowly rose as the squad leader opened the door and slipped in without caution. Where was the natural wariness, the Assassin’s affinity to careful, precise action?

 

Sharing a look with one of your fellow members, the rest of you made your way inside the cool shade.

 

You immediately realise something is wrong. Although the place was clearly inhabited by the Deadlock Gang (Their logo had been plastered all over the walls, and all sorts of weapons littered the straw floor) it looked deserted, with no soul in sight.You’d expected the place to be packed with members of the rival gang, or at least a guard dog. Surely they expected retaliation after stealing a priceless artifact from the enemy?

 

Your heart plummets as you see the old squadron leader smile wickedly, before pointing his gun at one of your teammates and pulling the trigger.

 


	4. Fire

The old man took out two more of your squadron before you gathered your wits and hauled your ass outta there, looking for cover. You took too long, and as you sprinted towards the largest thing you could see (an old-fashioned tractor) the psycho took a pot-shot at you. The bullet just grazed your right leg, but it felt like fire had engulfed your lower calf. You unceremoniously fell forwards, and under cover of the tractor you watched as all hell broke loose. 

 

 

Confused looking Phantom Bullet members (who had just stormed the main door and side entrance) were being gunned down by the Deadlock Rebels, who had been hidden amongst the many bales of hay laying about. You curse under your breath. That son of a bitch must have sent out a signal for the rest of the force to move in. Ugh, and to think you were excited. 

 

 

 

Almost half the Phantom Bullet have been slaughtered by now. The rest have caught on and are now securing safe positions under the many hiding spots. You watch one of your mentor’s head get blown to bits as he tries to run for cover. Ouch. 

 

 

 

The cogs in your brain turn. You know this is a way for the Deadlock Gang to clear the sole annoyance that has been a real pain in the ass to them. Ever since the Phantom Bullet refused to cooperate with the umbrella agreement that gave the Deadlock Gang control of the nearby groups, there’s been non-stop fighting. Perhaps that new leader decided to be revolutionary and actually end the bloodshed. Well, what a twisted way of doing it, annihilating the whole Phantom Bullet. 

 

 

 

You’re jolted from your thoughts when a grenade is thrown your way. You toss it back and scramble towards where you see the remainder of your people regrouped behind a wall of haystacks. It’s barely any cover, but for know it will have to do. Some heads turn your way as you approach, but majority are turned towards one of the members who seems to have taken charge, a burly woman with a scar on her cheek. 

 

 

 

“Ok, we’ve only got a few of us left, I ‘sppose we’ve to find a way to escape this shithole” she says in a crisp, controlled tone. 

 

 

But her eyes deceive her. She knows none of us will make it out of here. 

 

 

 

The fighting has come to a standstill, but you know it won’t last forever. 

 

 

Of the twenty or so remaining, your the only one injured. As one of the last medics patches your leg up with an emergency kit, you get a good look at your wound. A good portion of your pants has been burnt, and the wound itself is oozing with blood and what looks like pus. You nearly faint at the sight of your blood soaking the straw your sitting on. The medic does his best, but with the limited supply of aid available, the future doesn’t look very bright for you. 

 

 

 

You try to focus on your breathing. On your heartbeat, on how lucky you are to be alive right now. This massacre has torn down so many that you had grown up with, and the grief has started to sink in as the shock ebbs away. Just keep breathing, you tell yourself. Breath. 

 

 

 

The air is silent now, save for the occasional gunshot and scream. You watch as your team build a barricade around your controlled area, and as you look over you realise the enemy are doing the same. What is going on?

 

 

 

A few torturing minutes pass as you wait for the guns to start blazing again, for the familiar voices of your ‘family’ to be silenced. Just as you think the fighting has come to a stop, a clear, feminine voice rings out through the still air. 

 

 

 

“If y’all are done hidin’ like a bunch ‘o rats, I’d like to get this over with, if ya don’t mind.”

 

 

 

The woman with the scar from before answers back. 

 

 

 

“You think this is over, don’t you? Yer the bunch of cowardly rats here. There’s no honour in this bloodshed, just the smell of your own fear. “

 

 

 

This earns you a barrage of explosives, and the makeshift barricade barely holds together. The voice from before shouts out again, this time to her own people. 

 

 

 

“Smoke ‘em outta there!”

 

 

 

Three sticks of dynamite, attached together, are thrown over the barricade and into the crowd of your teammates. No one moves, too shocked to react. It’s only luck that the majority of the crowd serve as a meat shield for you when the dynamite explodes. But the force still knocks you back, and the last thing you see is the scarred woman, burnt to a crisp, falling to rest infront of your face. 

 

 


	5. And Ice

The first thing your aware of is the droning ringing in your head that will not shut up. Then comes the searing pain in your leg, which forces you to open your eyes. You find a hundred more staring back at you. 

 

 

 

You start, but that slight movement sends you into shocks of merciless pain, which you can barely control in-front of your audience. You silently curse, head lowered to the floor. 

 

 

 

You are tied up, your hands and legs bound together, your whole body being supported by your knees as you sit silently on the bloody floor. You’re still in the barn, right at the centre, where you have a clear view of the bodies littering the floor. You also do not fail to notice the hundred or so Deadlock members staring at you with detest in their eyes. 

 

 

 

You are lined up in-front of them. They all watch you, silently daring you to move, to try and escape, but you know escaping would be the end of you. However, you still didn’t  want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your fear (which was steadily growing) so you raised your head and met every single one of their eyes, although inside you were screaming from the pain in your leg and a new, more subdued pain in your ribs. 

 

 

 

A quiet whimper sounds from next to you, and as you turn your heart nearly stops. Because next to you were, quite literally, living corpses. 

 

 

 

The first one, the one closest to you, barely resembled a human. Its body was mangled, and a few limbs were missing. There was an open gash on the stomach, and you could see their intestines, expelled from their body. It lay whimpering, it’s naked body on display to be laughed at, scorned at, to be tortured before being given the mercy of death.  

 

 

 

The second one was still alive, in the normal sense, but his face was melted off, the skin and meat so far gone you could see bone. He sat with more dignity, but you could see the weak rising and falling of his chest slowly fading, and you knew he would be the first to die. 

 

 

 

Your thoughts drift away as you watch the crowd of your enemies slowly splitting, a pathway created on the centre. At first, there’s dead silence, as even the body beside you holds its breath, waiting for judgement to release it from its living hell. 

 

 

 

And there, from the shadows, came the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen in your entire life. 


	6. New World

_What the fuck._

 

 

Your mind goes blank as the Deadlock Gang’s leader circles you, surveying you. 

 

_She’s so..._

 

_Wow._

 

You catch yourself, feeling the hint of a blush blooming on your face. 

 

No. You cannot think like that. She just annihilated your friends, your family, the people you held the closest to you. And yet...

 

The click of her heels bring your attention back to her. She’s clad in a white shirt and tie, adorned with a black overcoat and various pieces of armour on her right arm. A black cowboy hat rests nonchalantly on her head, the gold ornament glistening in the pale light. At her side rests the Viper, her notorious semi-automatic shotgun, a masterpiece of black and gold. 

 

You suddenly find that gun pointed right between your eyes.

 

“Well now, what’s a pretty kitten like you playing with bastards like them?” She croons.

 

She halts infront of you. For a second she is still, before grabbing at your hair, tugging it downwards, so that you’re forced to look up at her. To look right at that cocky grin.

 

”They really are phantoms now, aren’t they?” She laughs, cruel and sharp.

 

”You know, you look just like your daddy,” she says, her eyes sparkling at the confusion clouding your eyes.

 

”Good. Hope you have enough talent to replace ‘im’” she says, and her hand moves down from your scalp to your chin.

 

Surprise lights up in your eyes as her grip loosens, but you don’t move. Her thumb traces your lower lip, her eyes watching the red float on your face.

 

She suddenly lets go, whirling away from you, walking back towards the main doors.

 

”Welcome to the Deadlock Gang,” she shouts, and you can hear the grin in her voice.

 

She waves her hand, and the two humans next to you are reduced to corpses.

 

 


	8. Growing

Being locked in a grimy cell was harsh. Even worse so being locked in at the heart of the Deadlock Gang. 

 

It’s been a week since the massacre. You’ve been trapped in a cramped prison cell, from what you can tell is under the warehouse. There’s barely been any food, and it’s starting to show. Your cheeks are gaunt, and your torn clothes reveal stark bones. 

 

With no one to talk to but several rats, you don’t really know what’s going on in the outside world. You feel like nothings changed, the other gangs are all under Deadlock control, no one would dare retaliate. After all, surely everyone must know why Assassin HQ is deserted now. 

 

After being shoved in this hole, you hadn’t come in contact with the beautiful woman who had killed your entire existence. Maybe it was the loneliness, but you wanted her to come see you. Maybe you just wanted to look at her angelic face, or snap her neck.  

 

It was around midnight when the bolted door finally opened, the sound of the rusted hinges startling you. Two men pick you up by the arms, allowing you to use them as support, as you clearly could not walk by yourself, what with the malnutrition and the bullet wound, which had been unsanitarily dressed every two days or so. It had gotten infected, the inflamed opening continuously oozing blood. 

 

You were half dragged not through the wooden staircase you had come from, but through a dark tunnel that shot straight through the ground. Perhaps the Deadlock Gang had relocated, and you were moving to a new cell. Whatever the case, you allowed yourself to be dragged, your bones brittle. 

 

It it seemed like hours before the tunnel began to move upwards, and before long an ornate door, wrought in gold, could be seen at the end. 

 

You our look at one of the men in confusion, and he smirks at you, the green bandana around his neck gleaming with sweat. 

 

“Lady’s orders. Congratulations, you’re one of the lucky people who get a private audience with her, “ he says, before he nods to his compatriot and pushes you through the doors, slamming them shut as you stumble into the grandest room you’d ever been in. 


End file.
